


Come For Santa

by el_maybonics



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Densi - Freeform, F/M, I can't be held responsible, It's like the writers wrote that scene cause they knew someone would write the porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post 'Cancel Christmas'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5545226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_maybonics/pseuds/el_maybonics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve in the Deeks household, and not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. Well... maybe that's not exactly true. Kensi's wish comes true, as Deeks breaks out a certain costume that's long been a fantasy of hers. Post 'Cancel Christmas' and based on their exchange in that episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come For Santa

**Author's Note:**

> Coming out of smut retirement for one night only.

She awoke with a start, senses on high alert. Soft silvery streams slid through the window from the bright moon that hung high in the clear night sky, but all they managed to do was create deeper pockets of darkness in the bedroom, making mounds of furniture look unnatural. Slowly, her eyes scanned the room, looking for something amiss, looking for whatever it was that had woken her.

“Deeks.” Her voice was a low breath, barely audible. “Deeks, did you hear--?”

Her words cut off like there was a vice around her throat as her eyes fell upon his side of the bed. Empty.

Licking her lips, Kensi’s mind raced. He’d been there when they went to sleep, but she had not heard him leave. A thousand fearful thoughts crashed through her mind, the worst of them relating to the recent Internal Affairs case that had nearly ruined his career and their lives. She knew the truth of the matter now – she’d figured it out even before he’d finally worked up enough courage to actually tell her himself – and she couldn’t help the cold dread that settled in her gut when she thought of any repercussions that might arise. Slowly, she released the death grip her fingers had on the bed sheets.

A soft whine told her she was not as alone in the room as she had first thought. Curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the human bed, Monty – _the greatest dog who ever lived, just as Deeks, he’ll only be delighted to tell you why_ – kicked a leg in his sleep and dozed on. She figured the old pooch could probably sleep through an earthquake.

“Well,” she murmured, half to herself and half to Monty, “he didn’t get up to take you walkies.”

Her head snapped towards the door to the bedroom. Somewhere downstairs there arose such a clatter. Kensi sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Grabbing her service issue SIG from the nightstand by the side of the bed, she gave it a quick once over before padding towards the door. She didn’t even pause to put anything over the old and faded LAPD t-shirt she wore, the hem coming down so low over her hips that it almost covered the loose pair of shorts that left most of her legs exposed. The wooden slats of the floor were cool against the soles of her bare feet. Cautiously, she crept out onto the landing and froze. Another noise from below. Sounds of movement, of things being moved. Her head cocked to one side. Was someone trying to rob Deeks’ place? On Christmas Eve? While a trained Federal Agent and an LAPD Detective slept above them? A small smile played out on Kensi’s lips, holding an edge of malicious intent. Whoever it was down there, they were going to get a lot more than they had ever counted on.

Down the staircase she went. The darkness hid her movements, and she moved slowly to mask the sound of her tread. More noise, this time definitely coming from the living room.

Into the doorway she went. The living room was lit by a hundred pinpricks of coloured light, all coming from the fake needled tree that stood in one corner of the room. Tinsel on almost every other surface of the room reflected that light back in a myriad of dancing colours. Stockings were hung on the mantel with care. And from in front of the tree, something moved. A human shape stood up, bulbous around the midsection.

“Hands where I can see them,” she growled, aiming down the sights of her SIG at intruder. Carefully, the fat man raised his arms up, stretching them out to the side. “Boy, did you pick the wrong place to burgle tonight.”

To her surprise, the intruder actually chuckled.  

“Ho Ho Ho,” said the intruder, his voice deep and rough. “Merry Christmas.” Kensi’s eyes narrowed. Even through the change, she recognised that voice. Sighing, she lowered her weapon, and used her free hand to flick on the living room lights. In an instant, the room was bathed in a glow, revealing the red-clothed fat man before the tree. By his feet lay a large brown sack, bulging with square shapes.

“I almost shot you,” she said dryly.

The intruder turned then, and she saw he sported a very fake white beard that covered almost half his face, though the cool blue eyes beneath were instantly recognisable to her.

“Then you’d have very much been put onto the naughty girls list,” he boomed with a laugh that caused his rotund belly to shake like a bowlful of jelly. “But something here is amiss.” He paused, tugging a sheet of paper from his pocket, and squinting theatrically as he read it. He’d really gone all out on the costume; red suit that was lined with white fur, big brown boots, and a red hat that flopped to one side of his head.  “I have no record of you at this address, and I checked this list twice. This is the home of one Martin A Deeks, LAPD Detective and NCIS Liaison extraordinaire!”

“Well, who knows what next Christmas will bring,” she countered with a soft grin.

He grinned at her, visible even through the beard. “Well, child, tell me; what is your name?”

“Kensi Blye, Santa,” she said, adding extra droll emphasis to the last.

Once again, jolly old Saint Nick began to peruse his list. “Blye, Blye, Blye,” he muttered to himself. “Ah, here it is; Blye, Kensi Marie. Oh dear me. Oh dear, dear me. It looks to me that you’ve been very bad this year.”

“Oh I have,” she said, a broad grin crossing her face, her voice husky. “I’ve been so very bad.”

“You know what happens to girls who have been very bad?”

“No,” she replied, flicking the safety back on her SIG and resting it on the mantelpiece, “why don’t you tell me?”

He boomed a laugh again. “They are allowed one fantasy to come true, to inspire them to be good next year.”

“I think I like the sound of that,” she said, crossing the space between them. She bit her bottom lip as her eyes wandered up and down the store-bought costume. “But I have to admit, my fantasies about Santa had him looking a little… sexier.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really?” Deeks said, the deep boom gone and replaced with his own voice. “You have anything in mind?”

“Maybe something sleeker than this.”

“That can be arranged,” he replied. “All it takes is a little magic.” Then he tugged at the belt of his jacket, letting the cushion slip free from beneath it.

“It’s a Holiday miracle,” she cood, her fingers closing on the large round buttons and deftly slipping them loose.  The fabric of the jacket was course and rough against the tips of her fingers. When it was all undone, she let it fall open, revealed the toned torso of her boyfriend. Her fingers played gently up and down his abs, tracing over the hard muscles that bunched under her touch.

She looked up at him, brown eyes locking on blue. His breath was warm against her lips, only inches away, and the curls of the fake white beard scratched at her chin as they inched closer. Her lips parted, and a second later his did too. She moved closer, seeking his lips, but he pulled himself just millimetres back, keeping them apart. He grinned at her, his jaw moving up and down as if anticipating the kiss, but each time she moved closer he pulled back again. Teasing her.

Her hands trailed up his sides, over his ribs, and he twitched involuntarily at the tickle. _That’ll teach him to tease_ , she thought. Her hands continued up. Sliding under the fabric of his jacket, to his shoulders. Carefully, she slid the material back, letting it slip down his biceps. Her hands didn’t stray far from the tight muscles of his arms and shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his warm skin. Her skin was getting warm too, but – she had to admit – for an entirely different reason. Deeks let the jacket slide the rest of the way down his arms, letting it drop into a pile on the floor beside the cushion.

She glanced down, eyes taking in his frame again, tracing the hard contours of it. She was surprised to find he wore a pair of bright red trouser braces, one strap pulled tight over each shoulder. “That is much better,” she said softly.

“I’m glad you approve,” Deeks replied. His hands moved to his waist, palms holding her tight, and he suddenly tugged her forward the last few inches between them. Their lips finally came together – and Kensi found herself coughing and spluttering.

“Lose…” she began when she could speak again. “Lose the beard, Deeks. I mean ‘Santa’.”

He grinned back at her, before tugging the false beard off his face, revealing the scruff she had come to love over the past seven years.

“Good, now where were we? Oh yeah!” This time she pulled him closer, using both hands against the braces to haul him into the kiss.  His lips met her with force, the pressure of a needful kiss, and she let out a raw sound that rolled across her throat, half moan and half growl. She pushed against him, her whole body close against his bare skin, forcing him backwards until she had him pinned against the hard wall with enough impact to rattle some of the knickknacks that stood along a shelf not too far away from them. Her hands continued up his side, palms splaying over the broadness of his shoulders, then slipping up to behind his neck. The little bobble of his floppy Santa hat danced, bouncing against the back of her wrist.

Her eyes widened as his fingers slipped passed the waist band of her shorts, sliding with purpose to between her legs. She broke the kiss with a gasp as the tips of his digits probed at her pussy, brushing tenderly over the pulsating heat of her sex.

“I dunno,” he said, his voice just as throaty and raw as hers had been. “It certainly feels like you’ve been a good girl.”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured. Her lips found his neck, pressing against the tendons of his throat, kissing the heated skin. “Very good.”

“Cause good girls get better rewards than bad girls,” he continued, his fingers tracing slow circles around her pussy. She was getting wet already, damn him, her juices coating the tips of his fingers.

“Maybe I’ve been good, but I can be oh so bad,” she moaned back around the flesh of his neck.  Then she gasped again as one finger broke the seal, inching inside her. A second later, Deeks withdrew it, returning it to its circular path. She could feel a bulge straining against the pants of his costume, even through the layers he wore. One hand left his shoulder, tracing down his stomach towards it, but his free hand appeared, grasping her tightly by the wrist and preventing her from moving.

“Nu-uh,” he said. “Not yet.” Then he moved, twisting with a force that overpowered her years of experience and training, and suddenly she found herself the one pinned against the wall. This time, some of the knickknacks actually tipped off the shelf. Some small part of her mind hoped they weren’t valuable; the other part yelled at that part to keep its priorities straight.

Deeks weight, pressing her against the wall, was oddly comforting. There was something about being dominated by the man she loved. Maybe it was because it was such a reversal from their work relationship, where everyone knew he followed her lead. Maybe it was the thrill of surrendering herself so wholeheartedly, to trusting the man she loved more than anything else. Whatever it was, man did it turn her on! Then Deeks had his mouth against her neck, lips and hot breath just above her collar bone, and shivers ran all the way down her body. He worried the flesh, kissing it, licking it, nipping at it with his teeth, all the while his fingers followed a trail around her damp pussy. She moaned his name, and he broke contact with his mouth long enough to say, “Call me Santa,” before returning to his work.

“Oh, Santa,” she moaned, more than a little mirth mixed into it, and he rewarded her by sliding his finger into her again, curling the digit back and forth against the fleshy inner wall of her cunt. Her hips rocked back and forth against his hand, eager, needful. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, nails digging into the flesh of his back. “Fuck,” she moaned, her head rolling back and her unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling. His finger pulsed back and forth within her, in time with her heart it seemed, sending streams of white hot lightening across every inch of her body. She undulated against him, teeth digging into her bottom lip, unable to stop the whimpers of need and pleasure from slipping out.

Another finger eased into her, stretching her, and she moaned a wordless noise she hoped conveyed her desire. She kicked one leg up, pressing the inside of her thigh against him while her foot dangled below, angling her hips closer towards his hand. He took the hint, increasing the speed and depth of his fingers. His hand arched, and she felt the pressure of the pad of his thumb against her clit, rolling it round and around in time with his fingers.  Then the tips of his fingers brushed against her G-spot, and she shuddered and moaned uncontrollably.

“There it is,” he breathed against her neck, a hint of smugness in his tone.

He hips bucked hard against his hand, and her breath came in ragged clumps as wave after wave of heat flared out from her sex, rolling across her body. He worked her clit and her G-spot while the insides of her shorts became wetter and wetter, and her moans became more and more wordless. Then his mouth moved up her neck, to the pulse spot just below her ear, hot and wet against the skin, sending cascading pleasure that pulse in countenance to the bliss rolling from her cunt.

“Cum for me,” she heard him murmur, his words muffled by her own flesh. “Cum for Santa.”

It was coming, she could feel it; building and building in her, like a furnace that threatened to consume everything that she was, and she didn’t care. Her breath was ragged in her lungs, breathing was hard, making any noise was hard, all that existed was the twin pulses of ecstasy that coursed through her body. Her fingers dug even deeper into the hard flesh of his back as the orgasm exploded inside her, a white hot blast of indescribable pleasure. Sounds spilled from her mouth, meaningless noises ravaged by the heaven her boyfriend had given her. Her whole body spasmed, jerking wildly against his firm frame.

He eased her through it, his fingers rolling tenderly around her burning, dripping, pussy, and he murmured her name into hair that was damp from her own sweat. As she shuddered her way down from the peak, she covered all his available skin with sloppy kisses.

“God,” she said, when she could master her words again. Her arms were wrapped tight around him, and she pressed herself as close as possible to him. She could still feel the unmistakable press of his erection through his clothes. “They say you should never try to act out your fantasies, but that…” She trailed off as an aftershock raged through her body.

“Oh, what?” he replied. “You think this is over? Cause I think this is just starting.”

“Don’t you have lots of other houses to visit tonight, Santa?” she asked playfully.

He barked a laugh. “No, all done, Santa is super fast.”

“Not in everything I hope,” she said, her hand resting against the bulge of his cock. It twitched in response.

“Nope,” he replied, taking her firmly by the wrist again but not moving her palm. “Santa’s all filled up on milk and cookies, as well as the holiday spirit. That stuff’s like Christmas Viagra.”

She snorted a laugh, nose crinkling up, and she shook her head at him while rolling her eyes.  “You’re so weird,” she said.

He grinned back at her. “Hey, not to be a segue or anything, but you know how difficult it is to find a Santa costume with tearaway pants?”

“Tearaway pants?” She returned his grin tenfold.

“Mmhmm.”

Within seconds, her hands were on the waistband of his pants, and she was tugging at them. There was the rip of Velcro all along the outer seam, and the pants gave way in her grip, tearing bodily from his legs. She pressed one hand against his chest, pushing him back a few steps. Her eyes scanned down, to see him wearing a pair of scandalously tight red shorts, trimmed with white over the thighs. A large black belt was wrapped around his waist, and from the bulky buckle hung some mistletoe.

She cocked her head at him. “Really, Deeks?”

“Okay, first of all,” he said, “call me Santa. Second of all –“

“Secondly.”

“Second of all, they came like this. This is how Santa dresses when it’s date night and he’s about to get busy with Mrs Claus, and if you want the authentic experience…” He trailed off with a shrug, but boyish mirth shone through in his grin. She couldn’t help but grin back at him – it was just infectious sometimes.

He took him by the hand, pulling him against her again, and kissing him fully on the lips. One of his hands reached up, cupping her under the jaw, while the other resting against the small of her back to hold her close. She nipped him playfully on the bottom lip, then gave it a rough tug that made him wince, before soothing the spot with gentle licks. Her lips began to trail down, over the rough scruff on his chin – if never ceased to surprise her how much she actually enjoyed the feel of his shaggy beard on her lips – and across his jaw, before following a trail down his neck. His grip on her loosened, allowing her to move down as her mouth made its way over his chest – she let her tongue wag playfully across his nipple a moment – and then down over his abs and the scars of bullet holes, until she was on her knees before him. This close, she could see she had been right in her assumption; the shorts really did not leave anything to the imagination. She could see the outline of his cock as plain as if he wore nothing at all. It strained against the confines of the fabric, eager for her, and she smiled again. Then her fingers curled into the waistband of the shorts, and she gave them a few stiff tugs, and then they were off. Released from its containment, his cock stood proudly at attention.

“Oh my, Santa,” she breathed. “Mrs Claus sure is a lucky lady.”

“I think you’ll find I’m the lucky one,” he replied. Something about his voice made her glance up. Deeks towered above her, naked save the wide belt, the red braces, and of course the floppy hat, but there was a look to his eyes that made Kensi realise just exactly what he had meant by that.  She smiled up at him, a smile she hoped held every trace of love she had for her funny, irreverent, damaged, partner. A smile she hoped told him just how much he meant to her.

Then she moved herself closer, lips pressing against the head of his cock. She let out a soft laugh. “A kiss under the mistletoe,” she said, before kissing it again. “It is traditional I guess.” His hands dropped, fingers curling softly into long strands of dark hair. Kensi opened her mouth, letting her tongue loll out, and drew it up the length of him. Deeks shuddered, and she supressed a grin. He really was putty in her hands. Or her mouth, rather.

Gently taking the head between her lips, she let her tongue play out, teasing at the very tip of him. One hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them, while the other wrapped fingers softly around the base of his shaft. Then she opened her mouth wider, letting him slide inside her, filling her cheeks. She paused a moment, lips resting against paper-thin skin, allowing her tongue to swirl around again, before she withdrew her mouth with a loud pop.

“Hmmm,” she said. “Better than Candy Cane.”

This time, it was Deeks’ turn to laugh.  She grinned back up at him, then took his cock in her hot mouth again. Easing forward, she brought her hand up to meet her lips. Then she began to slowly bob back and forth, her lips running up and down the length of his cock. One of his hands moved to the back of her head, fingers still twirled into hair, but he applied no pressure, demanded no pace. She flicked her eyes up at him, locking onto heavily lidded blue orbs. His lips were parted, and ragged breath slid through amongst moans and sighs of enjoyment. She slipped him from her mouth again, then spat down onto the shaft and used her hand to smear the saliva along the length. Kensi opened her mouth once more, swallowing him up. She bobbed her head faster now, her hand matching the pace, and took him deeper and deeper into her mouth. She paused almost at the base, shaking her head from side to side, then pulled herself off with another pop. She gasped for breath, then took him passed her lips again. His hand on the back of her head pressed down, and she stayed where she was, every inch of his cock deep inside her. Then she drew back again, for another gasp of breath.

His thighs were quivering, she realised, and his buttocks were tensed. She let her hand trail from his balls, to knead the dense muscle of his ass. He had a great ass, and one of the best things about actually dating him now was that she didn’t have to sneak looks at it like she had when they were ‘just’ partners, fearful of being caught doing so; now, she could not only openly ogle it, but touch it whenever she wanted.

She stroked at his shaft with her other hand while her lips and tongue nuzzled at the base. His moans were coming more frequent now, deeper, a rumble in the back of his throat. She stole a glance up at him again, and saw his mouth moving as if he were speaking, but whatever he said was too soft for her to make out the words. Then he was taking her by the jaw, pulling at her. Kensi complied, coming to her feet before him, but didn’t remove her grip from his cock, or stop her stroking.

“Come…” he began, but broke off to pant and struggle for breath, and she realised just how close he had been. A devilish smile appeared on her lips. “Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas.”

Then he was pulling her towards the coach. He collapsed onto it, tugging her down onto his lap, chest to chest, and drew her head down for another kiss. She pressed into it, even more so than the pressure of his hands on the back of her head and small of her spine. Her hands splayed against his chest, and she felt the solid thud of her heart beating against her palm. He kissed her solidly, a long and passionate kiss which she returned with equal feeling and intent.

His hand trailed down her spine before fingers closed around the hem of the LAPD t-shirt she wore. She pulled back from him long enough to raise her arms in the air and allow him to pull the shirt over her head. He tossed it somewhere into the depths of the living room, forgetting about it the instant it left his hands. True, it was his shirt, one he had worn through his training, but she knew it looked better on her. Besides, it always smelled like him, and she liked to wear it to bed on those rare nights they didn’t spend together. He’d actually been surprised to find it when he was packing up his old apartment to move here; Deeks had been convinced he had lost it years earlier. She didn’t have the courage to tell him she’d taken it, in a moment of weakness. What he didn’t know he couldn’t mock her over.

His mouth on her bare breast brought her back to the present. Her spine arched as his mouth worked on the flesh, sending jolts of electricity through her again. His hand cupped the other breast, fingers squeezing into it. She rested her hands on the back of the coach for support, her head rolling back and lips parted. As he teased and licked her breasts, she rubbed her crotch against his hardness, soft moans slipping out as it brushed her sensitive pussy.

“Santa!”

“So, little girl,” Deeks said in a throaty voice. “What do you want for Christmas?” His teeth closed around her nipple and he squeezed against it, even as he used fingers to pinch the other one. She bucked against him, letting out a deep moan.

“You,” she said when she could find the words. She gripped him firmly by the scruff of the neck, tilting his head back so they were looking directly at each other. “I just want you.”

He smiled at her, not the playful grin she knew so well, but the rare one tinged with just a hint of sadness. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “You know that, right?”

She nodded. “I do. Deeks.” Then she craned her neck down and kissed him again. It started as a soft kiss, a meaningful resting of lips together than spoke of connection and love. Only, it didn’t stay that way for long; almost as one, they began to increase the pressure of the kiss, spurred on by their burning desire for one another. Kensi began to grind herself against him again, her moans coming out as almost whines around the kiss. Her teeth latched onto his bottom lip, biting down hard onto the soft flesh, and she pulled her head back, tugging on it. Her breath was coming ragged again, caused by her barely contained need for the man.

His hands came down, slipping under the fabric of her shorts and clasping her ass, holding her as she rubbed herself against him. Then he was pulling at the cloth, trying to remove them. She paused long enough to stand up on the coach and let him tug the shorts off and toss them too, before she was straddling him once more. Her mouth found a place in the crook of her neck, teeth working on the skin. Carefully, Deeks began to pull her ass cheeks apart, and she let one hand dip between them, fingers closing on his shaft again. She raised her head, resting her forehead against his as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes, and she eased his shaft so that it poked at the entrance to her pussy. Both of them were panting, each from their desire and pure need. Then, gently, she began to lower herself down onto him.

Kensi let out another gasp as the head of his cock eased into her, stretching the walls of her sex. Lower and lower she went, moaning the whole way, as he filled her up.  She paused when she reached the bottom, letting herself enjoy the sensation of her boyfriend buried deep inside her. She bit her bottom lip again, then started to rock her hips back and forth. Slowly, she gyrated herself against his crotch, against his hardness, rubbing her wet pussy on him. She moaned again and again, fingers crushing the back of the coach so tight her knuckles were turning white. His hands remained clasped around the shape of her ass, following every rock of her hips. After a moment, she began to add a small bounce to the grind, so his cock pumped in and out of her as well, rubbing the inner walls of her pussy. Deeks followed suite, pushing his hips up in time with her movements so he was driving himself deeper inside her. The Santa hat he wore bounced wildly along with them.

A rumble was forming inside Kensi’s gut. It was coming again, she knew, inching ever closer. And as if on cue, one of Deeks’ hands left her ass and slipped between them, fingers playing against her clit. He wiggled his fingers back and forth over it, and wordless sounds spilled from Kensi’s lips in response. Her rubbing and bucking became desperate, faster, losing what little control they had had to the mindblowing bliss that was building inside her once more. She shook, actually quivering from the sensations, from the bursts of fire that roared across her body. Then she threw her head back, letting out a howl as the orgasm crashed through her. The muscles of her pussy clenched tight around Deeks’ hard cock, and she shook more, uncontrollably.

After what seemed an eternity, she slowly came down, still shaking and twitching. Each time she did, the movement against Deeks cock – which still filled her – drew fresh moans from her lips. Her hands worked over his hair, over his shoulders and back, caressing the warm muscles. She panted hard, her heart throbbing solidly in her chest. She kissed him again, sloppy once more, affectionate and thankful in equal measure.  Then, without warning, he thrust up into her again, ripping another cry from her throat. Deeks had the audacity to chuckle to himself at that.

Kensi grabbed him by the scruff of the neck once more, tilting his head back and pressing her lips hard against his. Her free hand sought his, fingers locking together tight. After a moment, Deeks pulled back from the kiss, before taking her by the waist and easing her off his still-hard member. She shuddered at the sensation of it sliding out of her, rubbing at the tender inner walls of her sex. Then he was laying her down on the coach, her back to him. One hand cupped the back of her knee, spreading her legs apart and lifting the one into the air, while the other hand guided his manhood back to the entrance of her sopping pussy. He eased himself back into her, both of them sighing at the sensation of it. He shifted around a bit behind her, moving himself into a position so that he could kiss the back and sides of her neck, and he could grasp a breast with one hand.

Deeks began to pump into her. There was no slow build-up this time, just pistoning in and out of her sex with a need that rivalled her own. With each thrust, Kensi let out a squeal of pleasure. Pure bliss was crashing through her body again, wave upon wave of it. Star exploded behind her eyes as another orgasm struck, but Deeks didn’t slow. He pumped into her furiously, fucking her hard and deep.

“Don’t stop,” she managed, around the moans that just wouldn’t stop coming.

“Now Dasher,” he mumbled, his hot lips pressed hard against the frantic pulse point of her throat. “Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!”

“Stop naming reindeer while you’re fucking me, Deeks!”

“Aren’t you a little surprised I can remember them all?”

“I’m surprised you can walk and chew gum at the same time. Now stop talking and put that mouth to better uses.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a chuckle, before twisting her head towards him so he could kiss her. He had not slowed his pace inside her the whole time.  If anything, the thrusts had become frantic, desperate, and she knew he was holding on by the barest thread. His hand squeezed hard against her breast, fingers digging into the flesh, and he was grunting into their kiss. She let a hand slip between her legs, fingers playing fast against her clit.

“Come on Deeks,” she managed thought ragged breath. “Let go. I need it.”

It was rising in her again, faster than before, like she’d been on a hair trigger since the last time. Deeks slammed his cock furiously into her, with everything he could muster. Sparks filled every atom of her being, flashing and pulsing in time with the burning flare between her legs. Then Deeks gave one last solid thrust, and a deep cry ripped from his lips, joined a second later by her own as her third orgasm exploded within her.

The world went white.

When sensation finally returned to her, Deeks was still behind her, clinging onto her. Both of them were drenched with sweat, their skin so hot it almost burnt. She panted hard, just as hard as he was, and in her chest her heart beat a frantic pace. She shivered, whole body shaking. Silence filled the living room, save for the sound of their breathing as it returned to normal. Gingerly, Deeks pulled himself from inside her, and she let out another gasp as his cock rubbed against her very tender pussy. But he didn’t release his arms from around her, holding her tight against him, his lips softly playing against the skin of her neck.

She let out a contended hum, nesting back further against him.

“Tanenbaum,” he mumbled against her, and her eyes instantly snapped open. She leapt from the coach, grabbing one of the pillows.

“You always have to ruin every perfect moment, don’t you,” she said, as she swung the pillow at him, laughing to let him know she wasn’t being serious. He laughed along each time she struck him with the pillow, covering himself up to try and protect himself from it. Then, quick as a flash, he caught one of the swings, his hand closing around her wrist like a vice. Before she could react, he pulled her in close again, one arm around her waist again, crashing his lips against hers. She struggled a moment against the kiss, making vague sounds of protest, before releasing the pillow and sinking into the kiss and the embrace.

On the mantelpiece, the clock chimed midnight. Deeks pulled back from the kiss, grinning at her.

“Merry Christmas, Princess,” he said.

“Merry Christmas Deeks,” she replied, returning the smile.

Then he rose, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go to bed. The real Santa won’t be able to leave us any presents if we stay here all night.”

“The real Santa?” Kensi said, playfulness returning to her voice as she glanced around the room. “You know, maybe I should stay down here and wait for him to…”

Her words were cut off into outraged splutters as Deeks hoisted her onto his shoulder. She struggled and squirmed against him, but he bore her with embarrassing ease. “I’m not giving you up for anything,” he said, as he started for the stairs.


End file.
